


New Kid On the Block

by ChloShow



Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Dissociation, Identity Issues, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:12:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3636252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloShow/pseuds/ChloShow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Freddy faces the repercussions of a night with White.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Kid On the Block

Freddy sat at the edge of the motel bed.

White was in the bathroom, wetting a threadbare washcloth.  
  
Freddy sat at the edge of the motel bed, the mottled purple comforter strewn at his feet.  Scratchy sheets rubbed his chaffed thighs.  His reflection caught his eye in the old television set in front of him. But it wasn’t him. Freddy wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t ring up White on a whim and come onto the guy with snappy lines and suggestive smiles.

He was out to himself, and that was about it. Couldn’t let anyone on the force catch onto the secret twink of the LAPD.  Funny that the time he finally let himself have some fun was on a job.  
  
Honestly, he could have had anyone on the team if he wanted; they all thought he was too cool for school, all jump and jive.  And what he wanted he got because that’s just how _Mr. Orange_ rolled.

The television set self told him to get back to the job.

 _His_ job. Freddy’s job.

But he wasn’t Freddy.  Poor little Freddy was trapped in the TV set, floating above Earth in some satellite.  TV Freddy watched the stranger mirror his actions, pick up the comforter at both of their feet, and feel the rough cotton underside of the acrylic motel bed shell against his skin.  Mr. Orange peered out from borrowed eyes to see freckled fingers fiddle with the hem of the blanket.

A voice warm like the smoke of a Memphis barbeque joint reminded him of White’s presence. 

“Hey, kid, I like watching you as much as the next guy, but I don’t think that’s an actual program.  Here,” Mr. White switched on the television set and ran his hand through the hair on the back of Orange’s neck.

Freddy’s vision snapped into focus as his image disappeared before him.  The TV yawned, sparking into a rerun of M*A*S*H.


End file.
